Read My Mind
by Shira Lansys
Summary: Albus and Scorpius are in separate houses, separate groups, and lead separate lives, almost unaware of each other's presence. But when Albus takes notice of him one snowy day in Hogsmeade, all that is about to chance. A combined birthday-Christmas present to xNomii. ABANDONED.
1. On The Corner Of Main Street

**This is a combined birthday and Christmas present for Naomi, because I couldn't keep it short. So I'm going to update this story twice a week until Christmas. I've no idea where it's going yet though, so cross your fingers.**

**Beta: The amazing Whimsical Catastrophe.**

_On the corner of Main Street  
Just try'na keep it in line_

The Killers – Read My Mind

Snow falls from the dark clouds above, coating streets and people in a cold powder. It soon melts, dampening coats and soaking through the clothes of those brave enough to stay outside for too long, and makes all who need to leave the warmth of their homes uncomfortable, if only until they can cast a drying spell.

The inconvenience of the snow is barely even noticed by the students of Hogwarts as they stroll leisurely between Honeydukes and Zonko's; it's a Hogsmeade weekend, and not even a blizzard would keep them shut inside the school and away from the temptations of the wizarding shops. Children push and shove each other in the streets; even older students are not above using their superior height and authority to push through throngs of students clogging up the streets rather wasting the precious few seconds it would take to walk around the large congregations. Another second not spent in warm premises such as the Three Broomsticks is another second in which they are vulnerable to extreme frostbite.

Albus smirks as two enthusiastic third-years dash past him, seeking the shelter of an apothecary shop. His own pace, unlike so many of the students and shoppers around him, is unhurried; he likes the cold. It makes him delightfully numb, a sensation which he thoroughly enjoys for reasons he can't really explain.

Strangely enough, he isn't the only one spending an excess amount of time in the winter weather today. Albus observes a lone figure, standing where the main street branches off into a residential road, shivering and kicking the snow in front of his feet in an idle, if somewhat sulky, manner.

He approaches the boy. "Scorpius?" Albus asks, curious. He's never had much to do with the Ravenclaw boy – their paths had just never crossed. He wonders what on earth the blond is doing out here, standing around in these freezing temperatures on his own.

Scorpius jumps at the sound of his name, startled. "Oh," he says. "Potter. Hi." His voice is flat, unenthusiastic. Albus frowns; he has no reason to expect Scorpius to greet him enthusiastically, but he's starting to get the distinct impression that something's off.

"Are you waiting for someone?" he asks, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets as an icy wind blows through the streets.

"Something like that," Scorpius replies with a shrug.

The ambiguous response doesn't sooth Albus's concern or his curiosity, but he thinks that it would be rude to pursue the matter. "How long will they be?" he asks.

Scorpius just shrugs again.

"Because I thought," Albus continue, not put off by the lack of response, "that if they're going to be a while you could come and have a drink with me in the Three Broomsticks?"

He doesn't know why he's pressing Scorpius so. Maybe it's because he makes such a pitiful figure standing out here alone. Maybe it's because that nagging feeling that something isn't right is refusing to leave him alone. Maybe it's just because he's nosey, and if there's something wrong then he wants to know about it.

Scorpius hesitates. "Go on," Albus says encouragingly. "It's only across the street. If you want we can sit by the window; that way, when your friend arrives, we'll be able to see them."

"Alright then," Scorpius surrenders resignedly. His eyes dart nervously to the door of the Three Broomsticks before his expression seals itself off again. Albus leads the way, checking to make sure Scorpius is following, and together they step out into the slush coating the main street.

The bell above the door rings merrily as Albus and Scorpius walk through the doorway and the warmth hits them like a Bludger as soon as they take their first step inside the pub. The noise is almost deafening; it seems as though everyone's decided to come here to escape the cold. Albus leads them up to the bar and orders them two Butterbeers. Scorpius goes to pull out some money, but Albus touches his wrist lightly to stop him. "It was my idea," he tells him, and pays for both of their drinks before Scorpius can even open his mouth to argue.

"Look, there's even a free seat by the window," Albus says with a pleased grin, as though this was a personal accomplishment of his rather than just a matter of chance. He points to a table next to some rowdy seventh-years who Albus knows by name and face only, even though they're in half of his classes.

Scorpius shifts nervously once more. "It's okay," he says. "It seems noisy there. Let's sit somewhere else."

Albus frowns. "But you won't be able to see whoever you're waiting for," he says. "And I doubt it's going to be that much quieter anywhere else in this pub."

"They're probably not coming," Scorpius says. "Let's sit over there." He points to an empty table in a much quieter corner.

"Alright," Albus relents. "Although it's going to be noisy there too. It's always noisy in the Three Broomsticks."

"Usually I go to the Hog's Head," he says. "It's much more peaceful there."

"But a lot creepier," Albus says. "And my brother swore he caught a disease after drinking a Frewhiskey there. It wouldn't surprise me if he was right; I've seen the state of their glasses."

Scorpius's mouth twitches, the first hint of a smile Albus has seen on his face all day. Maybe ever; he can't remember paying the quiet blond boy much mind prior to five minutes ago.

The conversation smoothly turns to Butterbeer after that, then to Quidditch, then to their dotty Transfiguration teacher. "If it was any other subject," Albus complains, "then I wouldn't mind so much because I could just learn it from books. But Transfiguration is really hard as it is, even if you've got a decent teacher. With Professor Falacrine it's going to be impossible to get a good mark." He pauses and looks around. "Hold on, where's everyone gone?" He'd been so absorbed in their conversation that he hadn't noticed the minutes tick away and the students trickle back out into the cold. Now the pub was almost empty with only a few groups of patrons dotted around.

Scorpius hides a smile in his Butterbeer at his new friend's genuine surprise. Albus sees it, though, and grins back, pleased with his accomplishment. Scorpius looks totally different when he smiles; it transforms his face so much he could almost be mistaken for a different person. "They've gone back to the school, I imagine," he tells Albus. "It's past four."

"No way!" Albus exclaims. He checks his watch and sees that Scorpius is right. "Okay, so maybe it is. I suppose we'd best be heading back."

That nervous expression flicks across Scorpius's face again, but disappears just as quickly as it had before. "I guess so," he agrees, and the pair rise. As they make their way past the bar towards the exit, Albus cheekily tips an imaginary hat to Hannah Longbottom, the pretty barkeep and one of his parent's closest friends. She's also married to their Herbology teacher, and the faces of most of the students are familiar to her. She waves back at the pair with a smile.

They reach the door before anything dramatic happens. The raucous group of boys Scorpius hadn't wanted to sit near earlier were still sitting by the window right next to the door. Albus makes his way past them without event, but as he pauses to pull open the door he is jarred as Scorpius stumbles into his back.

"Watch out, faggot," says one of the boys sitting with the group. Albus glances back at him, brows furrowed. It doesn't take great observational skill to notice that his leg is sticking out from the table, right into the path Scorpius was walking.

Albus turns around fully as Scorpius straightens up and mutters an apology. The boy is beet-red and refuses to meet the eyes of either Albus or the group of boys. Albus lets the door handle slide from his grasp, and the partially opened door makes a jangling noise as it swings shut behind him. Albus takes a small but obvious step towards the smirking boy. Towering over the seated figure, he looks him right in the eye and says, "Apologise."

The smile on the other boy's face fades only slightly as he looks up at Albus confidently. "I ain't apologising," he says. "Make the faggot apologise. He's the one who shoved you."

Albus ignores the word faggot, though it makes him want to punch the other boy in the face. "Not to me," he says. "To him." He jerks his head in Scorpius's direction. "You tripped him. Now apologise."

"Albus," Scorpius mutters (because somehow over the last hour or so he'd become 'Albus' instead of 'Potter'). "It doesn't matter. Just leave it."

"No, I won't just leave it," Albus says, not taking his eyes off the sitting boy, whose grin is no longer visible. His eyes glitter dangerously as he steps forwards once more. He's now standing so close to him that their legs are almost touching. "Apologise," he says again.

"I'm not apologising to a faggot like him," the boy hisses.

Before anyone can blink, the boy is dangling upside down by his ankle, and Albus's wand is in his hand and pointed straight between his eyes. "I won't say it again," Albus murmurs, his voice dangerously low.

"What you gonna do?" the boy hisses, his face rapidly turning red as his blood rushes to the lowest point of his body. "You gonna hex me, here where you're outnumbered and with all these people watching? The faggot ain't gonna help you."

Albus is keenly aware that all eyes in the pub are on him. Most hands are reaching for the wands and from the corner of his eye he can see that Hannah has stepped out from behind the bar, her wand in hand, waiting to intervene if the situation went any further.

"Hexing you would be too kind," Albus says calmly. "Your name is Mulciber, right? Slytherin house. On the Quidditch team. If I remember rightly, you're not a bad chaser." A plan was rapidly forming in his mind.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Mulciber asks. "Gonna give me a detention 'coz you're a _prefect_?"

"I _can _do that," Albus says, enjoying the colour that Mulciber's face is turning. "Or I can just get you kicked off the team."

Mulciber's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing," he says. "You don't have that power."

"You're right," Albus says. "I don't have that power. But my sister does."

He could pinpoint the exact moment that Mulciber realised that Lily Potter was Albus's sister _and _his Quidditch Captain, because a brief expression of combined fear and rage flitted across his face. "She wouldn't," he says.

Albus raises one eyebrow, a skill he was most proud of. "Wouldn't she?" he asks almost thoughtfully. "Maybe she won't. But do you really want to risk it?" He waits a moment for Mulciber's situation to sink in before his face hardens. "Now apologise," he demands.

Mulciber doesn't look at Scorpius as he mutters, "Sorry."

It's half-hearted and almost too quiet to hear. Albus considers making him do it properly, but one glance at Scorpius tells him that he wants to be anywhere but in this pub with this crowd. Albus flicks his wand and Mulciber crumples to the floor in a heap. "Nice talking to you," he says coolly to the group of boys before pulling open to door for Scorpius. "After you," he says. Scorpius flushes and walks as quickly as he can without breaking into a run in his haste to leave.

As soon as the door clicks shut he turns to Albus. "You shouldn't have done that," he tells him.

Albus is surprised as they begin walking back up to the castle. "Why not?" he asks. "He tripped you."

"It doesn't matter," Scorpius replies, his voice rising. "Tripping me is nothing. Now they'll just do it more! And they'll probably start on you too."

"Let them try," Albus says grimly. Then Scorpius's words sink in. "Wait, they do this often?"

Scorpius doesn't meet his eyes when he answers. "Sometimes," he says. Then he adds, "A few of them are in my house."

"Shit," Albus says. "That must suck." He couldn't imagine what it would be like to share a dorm with such morons.

"It's not so bad," Scorpius says. "I've gotten used to it. And Jesse – he was with them, but he never really joins in. He talks to me when they're not around, and sometimes he apologises for what they do."

"That's just as bad!" Albus exclaims. "And you shouldn't 'get used to it' – it shouldn't be happening at all!"

"Well it does."

"It's not right! You should go teachers!"

Scorpius shakes his head "The teachers won't do anything," he says. "And if they know I've told, they'll just make my life hell. I did it once before, and all that happened was they started picking on me even more."

Albus looks unhappy about this, but he can't come up with an answer. "Why?" he asks as they reach the castle. "Why are they such _dicks_?"

Scorpius lets out a humourless laugh. "Didn't you hear them?" he asks bitterly as they stop. This is where they part ways to go to their separate dormitories. "I'm a faggot."


	2. You Say You Want To Move On

_You say you want to move on and  
You say I'm falling behind  
Can you read my mind?_

The Killers – Read my Mind

Albus doesn't sleep well that night. He lies awake for hours, thinking of the events of that day. Of how nervous Scorpius had been about going into the pub. Of how he'd been too afraid to sit near Mulciber and his friends. Of how he'd relaxed and talked and _smiled _once Albus had made him forget to worry about them. Of how he'd submissively apologised when Mulciber told him to.

It makes him furious, that Scorpius should feel that he has to bow down to a bully and a coward such as Mulciber. It isn't right, Albus knows, but he knows just as well that there is nothing he can do about it. It's Scorpius's battle; he can't help unless the blond boy asks for it. It's how these things work.

There's also the curious question of why Scorpius had been standing out in the cold in the first place. Had he been too afraid to go inside in case he ran into Mulciber and his cronies? Or had he been waiting for someone - perhaps a boy – who'd stood him up? Albus doesn't really like either of those answers for some inexplicable reason, and he makes a solid attempt to put the matter from his mind. He reads a book; he begins a Charms essay; he lies staring at his canopy well into the early hours of the morning, still awake while the rest of his dormmates snore.

'_Didn't you hear them?' _Scorpius's voice keeps saying in his mind, over and over again. _'I'm a faggot.' _

As much as he tries, he can't forget the words, but even harder to block out is the tone. The small sneer in his voice. The anger, the hatred and the self-loathing.

Albus just wishes he could do something about it.

But he can't think of anything. He's all too aware that any action he might take and any help he might offer would probably just make the situation worse. All he can do was lie there and hope something will come to him.

He doesn't remember nodding off, but he must have because the next thing he knows, someone is pulling back the curtains around his four-poster, allowing the light stream onto his bed. "Hurry up, Albus!" Evan's familiar voice calls. "You'll miss breakfast if you don't get up now. And I'm not waiting for you!"

Albus rolls over with a grumble. Under normal circumstances, he dislikes rushing and he dislikes being late, meaning all his actions are carried out in a prim and proper fashion. Albus is accustomed to getting up with plenty of time to organise himself in a non-stressful, relaxed way – unlike every other boy in his dorm who sleeps until the last minute and shows up to their first class still doing up their ties.

This morning, however, he can't seem to bring himself to open his eyes. He knows it's because he's only had a few hours of sleep, but the knowledge it doesn't make it any easier to get up. Finally Evan comes to his aid by stealing his covers and turning his mattress into sharp stones so that Albus has no choice but to vacate his bed. "I thought you were going to leave," he grumbles.

"No man gets left behind," Evan says jovially, clapping the frowning Albus on the back.

"Where's everyone else, then?" Albus asks pointedly, grabbing his watch and tie. He'll put them on as they make their way downstairs; they're already late enough.

"Well, they left," Evan admits. "But you've done me a few favours over the years."

"So you thought you'd repay me by making me cold, bruised, and tired?"

Evan peers at Albus in a concerned fashion. He's a tall, dark-skinned boy with curly hair and deep brown eyes that peer through thick glasses. He has a nerdy look more typically suited to Ravenclaw and a studious nature to match; he's currently competing with Rose for top of the class. But he can wallop a Bludger like no other and has a fierce, uncompromising loyalty that had landed him alongside Albus in detention in their first week of school for punching Roger Flint in the face when the Slytherin had made jibes about Albus's family.

"Are you alright, mate?" he asks. "It's not like you to be so grumpy in the mornings – or so late getting out of bed, come to think of it."

Albus tries to put his bad temper aside and attempts a smile. It comes out as more of a grimace. "I'm fine," he tells Evan. "I just didn't sleep well."

"I believe you. You look awful," Evan adds unhelpfully.

"Thanks," Albus says, making an effort not to snap (although not really succeeding). "I love getting compliments like that."

Wisely, Evan shuts up after that.

Scorpius isn't at the Ravenclaw table when Albus reaches the breakfast table, sinking into the seat next to Graham Lineside, another one of his dormmates. "Good morning, Slumber Pumpkin," he says cheerfully, taking a great amount of sadistic pleasure from the sluggish manner in which Albus tiredly butters his toast. "Good to see you're finally up."

Evan sinks into the seat on the other side of Graham and elbows him in the ribs. "Leave off, Grey," he says, reaching for the cereal. "It's not like you've never been late getting up."

"I know," Grey said airily. "But Mr Morning Sunshine over there always takes pleasure in being happier and more awake than we are in the mornings, so I thought it was time to return the favour."

"If I were you I'd focus on doing some last minute revising," Rose interjects from across the table. Albus looked at his cousin to see that she isn't even looking at Grey, so fixed was her gaze on the text book in front of her. "We've got a Defence Against the Dark Arts test first period."

"Eh, should be easy," Grey says breezily, taking the time to throw a cornflake at Rose. It lands directly on her book and she brushes it off, annoyed. "It's just spellwork. It's not like it's a written test or anything."

"You failed the last one," Evan reminds him as Grey throws another cornflake. This time, Rose looks up and glares.

"That was in Charms," Grey says, taking careful aim. This time, when he throws the offending cereal, Rose catches it in one hand.

"Stop it, Graham," she says, annoyed. "Just because _some _of us want to pass-"

"You'll pass whether you study or not," Grey says. "And if you want to read books at breakfast without me bothering you then you should be sitting at your own table."

Rose looks stricken at the suggestion. "I can't," she says.

"Why not?" Grey and Evan ask simultaneously.

Rose looks over her shoulder and bites her lip. "It's complicated," she says.

"While you Ravenclaws may look down on us mere Gryffindors as unintelligent beasts fit only to work in the fields," Evan says, "I assure you that we will do our best to keep up."

Rose smiles at his excessively-eloquent manner. "Alright then," she relents. "You know Troy Robinson?"

"Seventh year, Ravenclaw, good at Potions, bit of a dick," Grey says instantly. Rose's lips twitch again. "Yep, we're familiar with him. We've only been in half his classes for seven years."

"Yeah, well," Rose says, "I've received a tip off from Mary who heard from Shannon who got told by Venus who was talking to Andy about him that he likes me."

Three pairs of eyes blinked back at her, including Albus's. Despite himself, he'd been drawn into the conversation. "I'm not sure I quite followed the chain of people," Evan says blankly.

"Doesn't matter," Rose says. "The point is that I've heard that he's going to ask me out. So now I'm at the Gryffindor table."

"You were right," Evan says. "I don't follow at all."

Rose sighs as though she was explaining something quite simple to a very young child. "He's going to ask me out, but I don't like him, which means that I have to say no, but if I do then I might hurt his feelings. And remember when he was dating Alexis last year and they broke up?"

"No," Albus, Grey and Evan say at the same time.

"Really?" Rose asks, surprised. "How'd you miss that? It was all over the school?"

"We have important things to talk about," Grey retorts. "Like Quidditch."

"Right. Well, let's just say he didn't take it well and things got really nasty between them. And only a few months before, Josie ended up in the hospital wing from a mysterious "prank" only a few days after she turned him down."

"That does sound like something Troy would do," Evan admits. "He punched that Slytherin when they lost the Cup last year."

"You can handle yourself, though, Rosie," Grey points out. "And if you're struggling, we'd be happy to lend a wand." He smirks a particularly wolf-like smirk; his bias against Troy was well known. Once he'd landed Grey in detention when he was trying to avoid getting into trouble for something he'd done. While it probably hadn't been intentional, Grey had taken a dislike to the boy, and he made it plain that if the opportunity arose for him to cause Troy discomfort without going out of his way, then by all means he'd grasp that opportunity with both hands.

"Thanks," Rose says. "But honestly, it's best if I do it this way. While I'm sure I could take him if he tried to hex me, a lot of my friends are also friends with him, so it's easier if I just avoid him for a while. He'll forget about me eventually."

Grey opens his mouth to say something but then closes it again. Even Albus, in his non-functioning state, notices, and gives his friend a strange look.

"We'd better head to class," Evan says. "Elsewise we'll be late."

"Oh no!" Rose exclaims, leaping up. "I spent all that time talking when I should have been reading."

"Relax," Graham tells her, slinging his bag across his shoulder. "You'll breeze through it."

Reluctantly Rose slides her book back into her bag. "Oh, that reminds me," she says as the four of them exited the Hall. "You got a letter while you were still in bed." She fishes into her bag for it and pulls out a crumpled envelope.

Albus takes it. "Why do you have it?" he asks, confused. Usually if Mace, his parents owl, couldn't find him at breakfast, he flew up to the dorms or waited in the owlery until he went outside.

"It's from Uncle Percy," Rose replies. "I think poor old Hermes got a little confused and thought it was for me."

"Blimey, is Hermes still alive?" Albus asks. "I thought he would have corked it by now. Why didn't he send Fishie?" Fishie is Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey's other owl, the one they'd bought when it had become clear that Hermes was beginning to get a bit past long journeys. Lucy, still a young child at the time, had got the honour of naming her, and she was adamant that "Fishie" was the perfect name for their new owl.

"Must be on another delivery," Rose says, shrugging. They reach the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and Albus quickly shoves the letter into his school bag without opening it. "Hey, Rose," he says as they traipse into the classroom. "What do you know about Scorpius Malfoy?"

If she is surprised by the question, she doesn't show it. "Not a lot," she admits. "He's in my house, but he keeps to himself mostly. He's quiet, I suppose, or shy. I know more about his father from the stories Dad's told me."

Albus had thought that would be the case; he's heard exactly the same stories from his own parents. "So you don't speak to him then?" he asks as they take their seats.

Rose shakes her head. "I know he has an owl, and that he doesn't spend much time in the common room," she says. "He doesn't seem to have many friends. And I hear the rumours."

"What rumours?" Albus asks sharply. But before Rose can reply, Professor Longhorn strides into the room and the class falls silent.

Tiredness hits him suddenly and he rests his head on his arms. '_This is going to be a long day_', he thinks to himself.

* * *

As the four of them make their way from Charms, Albus glances behind him to see Scorpius walking by himself. "I'll catch you up," he mutters to his friends as he drops back beside the blond.

"Hey," he says, striving for casualness.

Scorpius looks surprised. "What do you want?" he asks. His tone is more startled than rude, and Albus frowns.

"Well we're heading to the same class. I thought I'd walk with you."

"Why?" Scorpius demands.

That catches Albus off-guard. "I don't know," he says. "I thought… yesterday…"

"We're not friends, Potter. Don't pretend that we are."

Albus, his temper already short from lack of sleep, feels a flicker of annoyance. "There's no need to be so rude, you know," he informs the blond. "If you're still mad about me making Mulciber apologise to you yesterday, then I'm sorry, but I wasn't just going to stand there."

Scorpius looks at Albus with an unreadable expression. "You don't understand anything, do you?" he asks Albus. Albus is startled by the question but, before he can reply, Scorpius continues. "I don't need your pity, and I certainly don't need your help. Just leave me alone." And with that he pushes ahead through the crowd, leaving Albus standing there with a look of hurt surprise on his face.

* * *

_Dear Albus, _

_Your uncle is still making inquiries at the Ministry about available positions in the Experimental Charms departments but don't you worry about that. I'll have a few words to him over the next few months and he'll come to see that perhaps the Ministry isn't the best place for you to start your career. I've remembered what you told me over the summer and I've begun making enquiries with some of my friends overseas. A lot of overseas Ministries have completely different set ups, and even outside of the Ministries there are plenty of jobs in your specialist field. If Uncle Percy sends you an owl, just write back to him saying that you want to keep your options open. _

_I've had to send this on Hermes because I'm using Fishie to send letters to my correspondents in other countries. Please take care of him; I'm not convinced he's up to the journey. Give Lucy and Molly my love. _

_With Love, _

_Aunt Audrey. _


End file.
